Empty Threats and Hollow Lies
by Serena Thorn
Summary: None could have foreseen the outcome of the final battle and it's Claire who is changed the most because of it. Rated for dark themes. Oneshot


Title: Empty Threats and Hollow Lies  
Rating: R  
Summary: None could have foreseen the outcome of the final battle and it's Claire who is changed the most because of it  
Spoilers: Up to 3x19 and 3x25 speculation  
Disclaimer: Heroes is not owned by me, but by Tim Kring. I'm simply borrowing these characters for non-profit entertainment.  
A/N: It's darker than what I normally write, certainly darker than what I normally write for them. Still, I hope you enjoy it.

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Three times now Claire had gotten up from her usually warm bed to check her window. It was shut and locked and still she was chilled to the bone. Her heater wasn't broken and it was the third day of spring, even so the cold wind was howling just on the other side of the glass and despite her robe and walls she seemed to feel every gust.

The next day was worse. Bright and sunny and warm to all but her. When she glared up a the sun it wasn't from the blinding rays but because of the cruelty she felt the sky had. What right did the sun have to shine on a day like this?

Half of her family was dead and now Sylar was too. Not even hours after they had made their peace with one another and she had finally seen he wasn't nearly as horrible of a man as she had been forced to believe. Admittedly, mostly by him but even so. In those moments she had seen his humanity and she knew that if things had been different, maybe if he had been allowed to stay Gabriel, things could have been very different for the two of them.

Why she had even let herself fantasize about that she didn't know. It wasn't to keep her from crying, nothing had been able to keep the tears from racing down her cheeks. Her fathers had died and she was too numb to even feel anything for them. Peter had been the basket case after Nathan's death, not her. Sandra had almost seemed relieved when she had told her that Noah hadn't survived.

Claire's pain had been solely rooted in Sylar's demise. The man no one else had asked or seemed to give a damn about. They were supposed to be immortal, they weren't supposed to be able to die. They had finally come to an understanding with one another, promised each other even that they wouldn't hurt each other anymore. And now here Claire was among the ashes, feeling he had lied to her, betrayed her yet again. To make matters worse it seemed her tears had turned to dust as she had finally cried all she could. Still her body shook and heaved in grief, but the tears that typically accompanied them just wouldn't form.

As the days continued to pass she tried to banish every memory of Sylar. Anything to numb herself to the pain of his death as it seemed she had succeeded in doing so well with the deaths of the others.

But every night when she would lay down in her icy bed, she wished for him to be the one holding her. For him to give her the comfort that had so eluded her in the past. She knew he was the only one who could now. He was the only one who could truly understand her, the only one would could even pretend to know what she was feeling. She only cried herself to sleep again at knowing he would never know just how much it hurt her that he was gone.

Every memory would come back to her in her dreams. But no matter how violent or gory the memories, she still remembered how he had saved her and how it felt when she could still feel him. When she knew he was alive.

Why couldn't he have healed this time? Why did Peter have to think Sylar had killed Nathan? Why did he have to get his revenge that way? Why did he even care about the brother who had disowned him?

Finally a month had passed but still the memories just wouldn't leave her and her need for him refused to wane. What should have been dead long ago she was beginning to doubt ever would be.

Empty threats of letting her be and hollow lies of her happily ever after. For everyone else the dust had settled. Sandra had moved on, Peter had put up his strong front but Claire knew he still cried himself to sleep in his empty bed too. Claire knew then she shouldn't have underestimated the power of brotherly love but she couldn't help but mostly blame him for her agony now. There had already been so much death for her to kill him, but that didn't stop her from feeling that he had taken everything from her. It had been his plan that had resulted in Noah's death after all and he had been the one to kill Sylar. For her no blame was more obvious. For that reason she had been keeping her distance from him and Angela.

Claire soon found herself giving in to the cold. It wasn't leaving her, instead gripping her like the inhumanly strong skeletal hand of Death itself but without the sweet promise of release from this hell. She was numb to love and any other form of pain. Anger, hatred, bitterness and exacting what ever revenge she could herself, that was what she knew now. Sylar had been right, she was like him. She had only needed that helpful shove over the edge into this dark oblivion.

What exactly she had become she didn't know. A monster? Maybe. Was she just carrying on his legacy without sawing into others' skulls and taking their powers? Could be. She couldn't help but almost inwardly smile at the idea that with every kill she was keeping his memory alive.

She knew he would be pleased if he were there, ready and willing to share his secret of how best to get blood out of her clothes. Of course she knew the answer: steal new black clothes. But would just mean more hearing him say it. She would smile and he almost would, he would want to at least. He would move closer to her and after a long kiss he would help her out of her blood-soaked clothes that were too tight even before they were suctioned to her curves.

She had to shake the images from her mind. It was sick. Fantasizing about a dead man? Though granted he was very much alive in her fantasies and dreams, but still she knew it was wrong. Every morning she would wake to an empty bed and needs that could never, would never be fulfilled. He was history with the slamming of that door and in that moment she had seen her hopes and dreams of starting anew with him lying dead beside his crumpled body.

Her only happiness now came with her kills. It was then she had her moments of gold as the flash of her gun would illuminate even the darkest of alley ways. Sylar may have died those months ago, bur she knew that at least in some slight way he would live through her. She would keep his memory alive by doing what she knew he would if he still could. She didn't care how she had changed from that naïve little cheerleader from Odessa, Texas. It was worth it to feel his smile upon her, to almost be able to feel him touching her and even nearly hear his voice every so often.

There was no more fear, only longing to feel the flesh of those fantasies. Every memory still came back to her without fail and when she slept she only saw her dark angel. Her Gabriel. And every night in her dreams she felt that pleasure that she wished to be endless despite the empty threats of morning and the hollow lies of a new day. No one could tell her she wouldn't be able to return to her dreams. After all, she would kill to keep her angel coming back to her nightly. And she did, but only because it worked.

The End


End file.
